


Between Lines

by Korkyra



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Denial, Drabble Collection, Feels, Friendship, Gen, Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Parody, Payback, Sassy, Slow Build, Smoking, Writing Exercise, slight jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korkyra/pseuds/Korkyra
Summary: Unlike Batman, Jason Todd wasn't all that interested in the drama between the Super's. He had aliens to shoot at and preferably never mention this episode again.(Until Red Robin approaches and has interesting news to share.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of short episodes. First time writing something for the DC Universe. On that note, I wish you happy readings.
> 
> Special thanks to [d_aia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_aia/pseuds/d_aia) for all the advice, time and patience!

The whole week had been a mess, requiring almost every vigilante available to lend a hand before moving on to the next issue.

 

An unsuspecting fool triggered a dimensional rip with his machine, which wouldn't pose that much of a problem weren't for the fact that the idiot decided to make his machine work with the help of some weird magic that didn't exactly do what he hoped it would.

The little bouncy weirdos hopping out of the rift wouldn't be a hassle to deal with weren't for that magic trick that made them hard to track down.

 

_Did he mention they were also enhanced and prone to aggression at the slightest noise? No? Well, guess what._

 

Day one into this bullshit, Red Hood was dead set to mutilate the fucker who unleashed them as soon as Batman looks the other way. In his defence, so did the others but they weren't pronouncing it out loud every single time like he did.

Even Alfred took out his trusty Winchester the moment he spotted eerily green glows appearing near the garden of Wayne Manor.

 

The little shits took ages to kill and had a weakness against special weapons and bullets Zatanna was kind enough to provide them with. Even him. And that tells you something.

Three days into the hunt, Dickie had the pleasure of discovering they exploded in a thick goo resembling tar when he accidentally ran one over on his bike. The bike was then stuck to the pavement as if welded to it and Tim had to call Superbrat for assistance since none of their efforts to unstuck it worked.

 

_Brat of Steel did a fine job, even minding not to cause a dent in the vehicle._

 

Which kinda landed him in trouble with the Big Blue no its not an aeroplane but an alien in blue tights and red underpants saving people.

That wouldn't be the recent hush hush between the super community weren't it for the fact that the Man of Steel had nothing else to say as of late.

It came to the point where Batman sent weird looks his way each time the two found themselves in the same room.

The brat, however, took it like a champ. Not a word uttered when the rain came crashing down on him and what he could have done better this time around.

 

Not like Jason cared much about Superman and his "younger cousin" and whatever the heck was wrong between them this time.

He'd show up to get a round of bullets from Batman and disappear just as quickly.

He, for one, had enough of this hunting spree. Better end it before more of those hatch or some other crap ensures their survival in their vicinity.

 

_Or any other, for that matter._


	2. Chapter 2

It took a while but after three weeks and approximately two hundred rounds or so, the U.S. soil was once again free from freaky tar aliens.

 

Not that the U.S. cared too much about it in the first place. They were more or less used to it or just looked the other way. Save the group of activists, or homeland terrorists, depending from what angle you looked at it, shouting nonsense and waving flags and cut out sheets and carton boxes at the building of the Justice League for this recent mess, but they were always shouting something at the walls so they don't exactly count.

Back to spoiling plans, kicking ass, saving the innocent and spying on the bad guys.

_Or as they come, Jason wasn't picky._

So, on one of the rarest clear nights over one half of Gotham, he finds himself sitting on the secluded roof of some residential building, having little to do except listen to some cats fight down below, contemplating on sending them both to Catwoman so they would annoy her. It's rather quiet for a Gotham Night and he's starting to wonder if he would have fared better in Blüdhaven this evening.

That option was also soon ruled out because the moment he picked up his communication device, all he heard was Dick squawking about some stupid story and he didn't even bother to dish out an insult to stop him and maybe give Babs a second of a breather. He found his victim for the night and it seemed nothing was happening in Blüdhaven either.

The calmness of the night, interrupted by cats and dogs fighting here and there, with the occasional wife yelling at a drunk husband somewhere around, wasn't alarming him.

After the alien fiasco, things seemed to die down a bit since those weren't at all pleasant to deal with. This calm before another crime storm wasn't uncommon. Sooner or later someone was bound to act or fuck something up and he's more probably than not going to be there to further fuck things up for them.

 

_Be it the somewhat clear air or the fact that he didn't have to run around chasing glowing garden gnomes, perhaps that particular batch had been one of the rare good ones for this no name brand, the cigarette he lighted that evening was divine._

 

Neither Batman, Bruce, Alfred nor Dickie were exactly thrilled with that particular hobby. Not that Tim was, mind you, though he did keep an ashtray in his place for him to use because he understood what that meant for Jason. Sometimes, Dick would try to set him up with a more sophisticated brand of that lung cancer packed in paper cylinders.

The smooth and fancy kind that didn't scratch and claw at your insides and feel like inhaling burning rust.

Poor Dickie bird. All that money wasted on those packs he didn't bother looking at much less touch them. He just didn't get it.

It didn't matter what brand they were, as long as it burned and provided the nicotine he craved. He was a kid off the streets, trying to steal Batman's tires at one point in his life. Fanciful riches and the glamorous comforts never really sat with him. Neither would the smooth caresses of the fine tobacco suit him for he preferred the thing to be as it is. A potent killer without mercy. No need to wrap it in expensive cases with silk ribbons on top.

Though, he must congratulate himself, even that addiction seemed to lessen these days. The cravings would come back with a vengeance, here or there, waking him up at those meagre sleeping hours he counted on one hand and he'd feel the need to light up one box and eat the other, but not as much.

His fingers would itch so bad he'd want to peel his skin off and burn it at the same time and nothing would provide the ease for it, save a heavy cold gun resting easily in his hands.

The sounds would die down with each bullet fired, hitting the target. The anxiety would loosen its grip with the fresh whiff of gunpowder in the air. The chaotic ugly world would part the curtain to a better view if only for a moment.

 

_It is in that brief retrospect in which Red Robin finds him._

 

Not to break this streak of mild surprises, Red Robin also approaches, rather loud for someone who had undergone Batman's regime, looking rather worried.

"Replacement." Jason says as a matter of greeting, not bothering to move.

"Hood." Red Robin greets back, the word replacement only on the verge of making him crack a smile more than anything else.

"You, uhm, haven't seen Superboy around, by any chance?"

"Why yes, Gotham is crowded with Metahumans, can't ya tell?"

"Serious, Hood."

"Except yer not. Big Bad Bat doesn't allow Metahumans here, if memory serves. Yer friend does seem like he takes what Batman says more seriously than Batman himself, so I can't imagine him walking down Gotham streets."

Most accurate observation ever. Still.

"I asked." Red Robin shrugs, though that doesn't lessen his worries.

Should he ask? Did it matter?

"Alright, I'm it." Jason says as he finishes his cigarette, taking one last drag and it is absolutely superb.

"What's all the fuss?"

"His whereabouts are not accounted for." Red says.

_Oh? Looks like little sunshine wasn't without clouds._

"Do tell."

"His communication devices are at the tower. All of them."

Well would you look at that. Goodie two shoes finally reached his rebellious phase.

"Sucks to be in yer shoes."

"Actually, it's Superman's fault."

"Sucks to be Superman, then."

"So you haven't seen him, he's without communication devices and whereabouts unknown. Great." Red Robin summarises that real quick. "Guess we'll wait then."

"Don't ya have satellites and drones for cases like this? A bit careless of ye, Robin bird."

"As much as I'd like to, I don't feel like that would solve anything."

Well, if Red Robin says something like this...

"Must have been a royal fuck up."

"Something like that." Red Robin actually sighs this time. "I'll get going. Thanks for your time."

"Got plenty of it."

"Bye, Hood."

Jason raises a hand after him, contemplating on lighting another one. Which he does.

 

So, Boy of Steel took the highway. How cute.

 

_If Jason was a half Kryptonian raised in Kansas under Ma Kent's watchful eye, there's probably a handful of places he'd be right now._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this already has 7 kudos, wow, thank you! :D


	3. Chapter 3

"Gotham City borders ain't for another five miles."

 

Is the first thing the missing meta says, not moving from his spot on the shore of Delaware Bay.

"That, I'm aware of." Jason says, leaning down on his bike as he kills the engine.

It's been a week since Red Robin asked about him and despite the fact that he still didn't give two shits about the situation, it just so happened he spotted the brat sitting on the bank on his way to Blüdhaven that day.

 

_Ever since then, he would see him sitting there, staring at the bay._

 

"Did he send you?" He asks. "Tim, I mean."

"No."

"So why are you here then?"

_Why indeed._

"Came to see of the talk is true. That ya joined the rebel ranks and decided to ditch everyone for the time being."

"I don't feel like talking about that."

"Whoa there, Kansas." Jason stops him right there. "I'm the cursing, smoking, drinking, trigger happy rebel in the family, not the priest."

 

_That would be in another Universe. Alas, this wasn't it._

 

Kon seemed to be just fine with that since he had gone back to his own thoughts. Jason pulled out his pack and was about to light a cigarette when his lighter refused to work.

Not even after a few tries would it give signs of life. Jason merely glared at it in vague hopes it would set itself on fire when his cigarette glowed at the tip. Noticing the reddish hue of Superboy's eyes, he didn't have to wonder about whether it was his own stare that brought this forth.

"Thanks." He says before taking a drag.

The silence continued. Which was fine. Jason remained by his bike, enjoying his nicotine sticks. The view was actually decent from here.

"Do they do something for you?" Kon asks, this time looking over his shoulder. "The cigarettes?"

"Yes." Jason answers. "They serve to piss off everyone around me and waste a few minutes of my time."

"Interested?" He offers.

"No, thanks. Just curious."

 

_And this is whom Superman reprimands? Dude needs to get his priorities in check.  
_

 

"I kinda like the sound of it, though."

Jason blinks.

" _Sound?_ "

"Yeah. They give off this slight crack-crumbling sound when burned."

He turns to the shore once more and leans his head on his arms folded over his knees.

 

_Jason takes a long drag._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are two chapters today, since I didn't manage to post one yesterday. Have fun reading!

"That's not how it goes, farm boy."

 

It's the second week in Superboy's boycott and this time Jason finds him tossing pebbles at the water. On his third one, he oh so cleverly deduces he's trying to make them skip.

"What?"

"If ya want them to skip, ya need the flat ones."

The confused puppy look is all he needs to move from his bike and walk towards him for a better explanation. He seems to be the more practical learning type.

"This is about right." Jason says as he holds a flat pebble up. "Now, ya need to align it horizontally, with the surface, and toss it like this."

The pebble flies out of his hand, making about five jumps before sinking to the bottom.

 

_"Here, yer turn." He says, another one between his fingers._

 


	5. Chapter 5

Cruising down the peninsula had been one smooth sail down the road. Completely unplanned for and just for the heck of it. Jason knew his ride would make it all the way to the Atlantic coast and something told him Kon's would too.

The work of art downright purring under his ass as they stopped was truly one of a kind.

 

_So._

 

_How does a seventeen year old get his hands on a pretty thing like that?_

_And pretty it is. Out of this world and most certainly a few others._

 

_Well._

 

It may or may not, depending on whom you ask, have to to with one Lex Luthor getting wind of the situation and seeing to it, with utmost delight, as he sprinkles about an ocean's worth of salt to that wound along with a ten mile long list of insults to the injury that was Superman's pride.

Sure, he'd still seethe at mankind's super saviour at the mere shadow of a thought, plot his and other's demise, run an evil empire in the mean time and all that goes with it, but it was a different thing with Kon.

The motorbike he got for Superboy was, in Luthor's own words, meant to make Superman's blood boil.

Kon also happened to like it, so why not?

 

_Yeah. That's one way to go about it, sure._

 

Luthor may have had ways to deceive people and aliens alike, but this time he may have put in a little more thought in choosing the vehicle than he'd like to admit.

 

_By choosing, he meant designing the thing from scratch._

 

Jason, once getting wind of it and then seeing the thing, would only make a mental note and add it to the rest of the potential blackmail material he's been stacking up.

Because, for one, the half Kryptonian was the too honest for his own good type.

 

_His reaction was far too pure and genuine for it to even hint he's being used as a means to piss off Big Blue._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support and kudos! :D


	6. Chapter 6

"How the hell did you do it?"

 

It's always a special kind of joy seeing Timmy out of his depth and expertise, you know, when he doesn't get to the bottom or base line reason of something.

Like Superboy gradually slipping back into their hero and alter ego lives and the Titan's Tower premises without anyone getting the privilege of starting a 21 question's fest.

Hence Tim, always impeccable in his caffeine induced awakening, both happy and slightly offended by it, walking up to him one particular morning when both so happened to be blackmailed - er, well, yes, blackmail it is, there's no way to put it other than that - by Alfred to spend some time at the Manor.

 

"What ever do you mean, Timbers?" Jason asks, staring at the bottom of his twelfth, fifteenth, thirtieth, who knows really, cup of that fancy tea Alfred knows how to make so even Jason doesn't have anything to say against it.

 

At first, for a brief moment, he actually entertained the thought of good old Alfred spiking the stuff with something, but that had been dismissed the second it came into the consideration.

_It seems it was just Alfred and his wicked tea brewing skills._

 

"You know damn well what I mean, Jay." Tim, for one, isn't in the mood for jokes. "Cut the crap."

"My, Timmy, what vile language. Wrong foot out of bed?"

 

_Oh, if looks could kill._

 

"Ay, don't get yer panties in a twist, he's back with ya lot, ain't he?" He says.

Tim, a fine example of Batman's side kick as it were, wasn't without his suspicions.

"It can't be that easy. Not with you in the picture, anyway."

 

_Ah. That's what this is all about._

 

"Funny."

"What is?"

 

_"I thought Robin was a bird, not a jellyfish."_


	7. Chapter 7

They say curiosity killed the cat and then satisfaction brought it back, but while curiosity, in some measure, had been a part of Jason's cause of demise, satisfaction wasn't even remotely involved in his returning to the ugly twisted world that surrounded him.

 

As far as he can tell, something similar went on in Superboy's case.

 

_Though his return to the land of the living had been accompanied by a series of extremely confusing events, opinions and relations._

 

Time lines and disruptions of them tended to mess up more than one thing. It was a disruption in time and space that brought both back, for better or worse, as far as time travel disasters and the effects of it go.

Batman and Tim had mentioned something about distortions of the Universe, of one event or more changing thus creating countless other outcomes of the seemingly same origin, while other things stay constant, no matter how one might attempt to change them.

Disassociations weren't uncommon, feeling alienated or even not recognising one self at times might be one of the indicators of some shit happening somewhere and at some point in time. As far as they could tell, Tim didn't experience any of those, while Jason and, sometimes, Kon, did.

Needless to say, they could go on and on about it, but no matter how many charts and calculations Tim were to pull out of his sleeve, it didn't exactly help when seeing matter break right in front of your eyes and evil gremlins among other things just hop out of a crack in thin air.

 

(Jason had been walking through a haze all day long before it happened and even Kon had the feeling he wasn't himself but sitting somewhere near and observing himself and his surroundings from there.)

 

It seemed one of the initial critters they hunted down not three months earlier transformed itself into another portal. How convenient.

Luckily, they did not need three weeks to wipe them out, for Batman had been prepared for them this time around.

 

While the glowing puff goblin relative disintegrated in the middle of Delaware Bay, thus being neither in Gotham nor Metropolis, its demise had nonetheless been orchestrated to perfection in timing and scale.

How Clark's workplace got in the middle of it was of yet undisclosed and the Daily Planet needed a new planet by the end of the day to adorn the top of the building and whispers about Batman muttering something along the line of "see how you like it" was dismissed as mere rumours.

 

Superboy, in all his act first think later glory, managed to keep the being in check with his TTK for a split second, which had been a good call.

So, if Jason had experienced some of the less pleasant sensations concerning the half Kryptonian crashing into the bay face first in the midst of everything going on, one of Tim's numerous explanation would be sufficient.

 

_Or that's what he'd think._


	8. Chapter 8

In their line of work, setting aside lunatics, maniacs, psychopaths, the down right criminally insane, yet still human by DNA, exploding Universes, greetings from the final frontier and beyond, magic books, writings and unintelligible words, aliens from dead planets, gods and demi-gods, ruined cities no one seemed to be all too concerned with and pedestrians screaming one second and then resuming with their normal lives the next, things were not as hectic one would assume.

Yeah, sure, they'd have a number of critical events throughout the day, week, month, year but the idea of putting up a giant space station NASA is jealous of and packing it with superheroes on call with work divided among them seemed to get jobs done.

If not, the government had other sources and plan B's, C's and D's, you know, just in case literally no one of the A-OK good guys were available.

 

For example, the Suicide Squad and, on occasions, Red Hood and the Outlaws, and no, those aren't bands.

 

"What?" Kon asks as Jason gives him a look.

Good thing he didn't mention this with the other Wayne adoptees and the one little demon brat that actually isn't, because he'd really need a damn good excuse to explain their sudden demise to Batman, or worse, Alfred because no way in hell would they not drop dead laughing their kidneys off.

"Oh, come on." Kon blinks, as if his idea wasn't at all preposterous and near insulting.

 

_"How does that not sound like a band?"_

 

Were it not the fact that he's not making fun of him right now, but being genuinely curious, big blue eyes Luthor also didn't spend weeks perfectly dyeing to the perfect shade, nope, not him, as Kon is clearly set out to elaborate his theory, Jason would have been very busy thinking up explanations as to why _Kon_ is dead, _this_ time.

"Where the hell did ya come up with that?" Jason asks, genuinely thrown off his tracks at that out of nowhere thesis.

"Honestly, the JLA sounds like a complicated food label and Suicide Squad reminds me of a J or K-pop band."

Alright, there is only one explanation for this.

 

_"Were you binging Wendy the Werewolf Stalker again?"_

 

Because, honestly, there is no other reason for Kon spewing this idea except doing some heavy duty drug mix which he didn't. Making watching old shows while stuffing himself silly with pizza, coke and popcorn all night come closest to that.

"Maybe?"

 

_Bingo._

 

"Kon." Jason starts, not sure whether to laugh or delete the entire Internet. "While I appreciate yer creative thinking today and yes, the JLA sounds like some nasty cancer inducing food colouring, and I'm more inclined to put Suicide Squad in the J-pop category, mention the Outlaws in some boy band context ever _again_ , I will make yer sorry ass cry until Batman adopts you to make it stop."

"Uhm, no." Kon blinks. "Not a _boy_ band."

"I was thinking more in the line of some heavy duty underground stuff." Kon grins next, some picture there only he sees. "I think you wouldn't even have to play anything and you'd be all the rage."

"Uh-uh." Jason can't help the smirk. There's probably metal and leather involved, too.

 

_"How much junk food did you stuff into yer face, farm boy?"_

_"Enough to make me cringe."_

_"That I can tell."_


	9. Chapter 9

There are things one just can't prevent from happening, like the sun from rising, except maybe make the Earth turn in the opposite direction and turn time back that way, or so they claimed in that one Universe it happened, not that he bothered to check.

Clashes with various villains, he did not want to avoid, in fact he actively sought it out more often than not.

Clashes with his adopted brothers and father sometimes he avoided, sometimes he didn't. All a part of the daily life in Wayne Manor and nightly insomnia fest in the Batcave, around Gotham and Blüdhaven and everywhere in between.

 

And it's that clashing part, or the recent lack of, that stirs the spirits.

 

Granted, the Wayne Manor is as remote from being serene as Krypton is from existing, with someone or more of them, yelling, shouting and throwing things, which was fine, as long as Alfred had nothing to do when passing the corridor. Even with the bat girls on vacation, there's something rather off and it pisses Damian off to the point of him demolishing Dick's very own training room.

He, for one, loathes not being in the know, even more so than Tim.

 

"May I offer a towel, Master Damian?" Alfred asks as he stands to the side, a pristine extra fluffy towel on the ready as Damian sends a mannequin flying across the room in sheer frustration.

To which origins he can't lay a finger on.

Damian is ready to chuck another piece of furniture across the room when Jason walks in with his phone, avoiding the flying projectile with easy elegance, grabbing a weight from the wall shelf and walking back out, with a slight wave to Alfred.

It's then Damian stops and identifies the thing that puts him off.

 

" _That._ " He says, pointing to the door closing.

"What is _that?_ " He repeats as he motions vaguely to his own face as he's unable to pronounce whatever _that_ was.

Alfred, being Alfred, merely provides a solution.

"I believe," he begins, as poised as ever, " _that_ which you are referring to would be classified as _a smile_ , sir."

 

" _...oh._ "

 

Suddenly, it was as if all his frustrations were blown with the breeze coming from that broken window.

"I'll take that towel now, Alfred."

"Very good, sir."

 

That evening was one of the most comfortable ones, with Jason still smiling and on his phone in the living room, actually relaxed enough to not give a damn he was laying on the couch, Damian neck deep in his newest book provided by Bruce, titled " _Basic human expressions and how to make them out_ " with Dick staring at that scene for quite a while, only recovering from that shock upon reaching his training room to find it in pieces.

 

" _What happened to my room?!?_ "


	10. Chapter 10

Tim Drake Wayne had an agenda. A plan. A well laid out plan. His goal? To make Bruce Wayne and then preferably Batman, tolerate Superboy's existence. If not, then at the very least suffer it.

After all, he was a plan B against Superman. Granted, made up by Lex Luthor, but let's not get that technical about it.

 

Point is, he was a good kid.

 

Though, given that alien invasion episode and Superman being paranoid over something even Batman rolls his eyes at, that plan might not need those painstakingly precise preparations he thought it would.

Mostly because Jason.

It's been a while since Batman had to race across three towns and tackle the madness of the pit that would resurface here and there.

It's also been a while since Bruce Wayne had to fret over his second son's whereabouts and Alfred's disapproval he didn't so much see as he felt it.

 

Okay, so Jason was still Jason and he'd go off the radar from time to time, but he'd come back in one piece more times than not.

Jason wasn't about to call the family in and announce whatever was going on with him, that much Bruce knew, but it still worried him.

 

Then Nightwing mentioned crossing paths with Jason one night and that encounter left Nightwing mind-blown to the point of the older vigilante staring at nothing after that for a moment.

Unfortunately, Nightwing had still been affected by that and fell silent in the middle of that report and Bruce was about to eat his own cowl because he didn't get the info he had been looking for.

Which only served to worry him even more. What was going on? Was he in trouble? Why is no one telling him anything? (He knew why, but still.) Was he not feeling well? Was the Pit acting up again? Was something else going on? Was he to expect Jason snapping? Piles of bodies of criminals laying around Gotham?

Should he check the local funeral services stocks?

 

Alas, as time went on, with nothing of the sor t happening, Batman decided not to be Superman about the whole situation and just roll with a certain fact. Or two.

In fact, it was Bruce Wayne that finally chilled.

Tim, in the grand total, was slightly disappointed it went so smooth but he'll take it.

Now.

To the actually difficult part.

 

_Explaining the new situation to Kon himself so he doesn't die from shock._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go, hope you've enjoyed it.
> 
> See you around and feel free to share your thoughts, I have nothing against comments. xD
> 
> Have fun and I wish you all a nice day!!


	11. Chapter 11

Dick really shouldn't relish in the new situation as he does. Too many things happened between them all to just sweep it under the expensive carpet and Alfred would have scorned at it, too.

It's also funny, in a sense, how all of this started with a fluffy alien invasion. The part where Superman freaked out too much wasn't, but in the end it also added to the situation at hand.

Bruce fretting Jason holding a criminal hunting spree a while back was both over the top and not, Dick could see where it was coming from but that didn't mean he was right.

 

_Bruce really needed a break from himself at times._

 

Dick, for his part, was on thin ice there. They all noticed Jason act a bit different but weren't quick to connect it to the worst of reasons like Bruce. What Bruce didn't know at the time had really not been Dick's story to tell. Or to report on.

He himself stumbled upon it quite accidentally.

 

_It had been a calm evening then, no excitement, nothing to imply it would end up being the most revealing of them all. Earlier, Red Robin had reported a minor gang sneaking around a warehouse but it wasn't anything to require both him and Nightwing on the scene._

_So there was Nightwing, with a bit of free time on his hands until the next danger comes rolling, crashing, yelling or all of the above, until he hears a sound and spots Jaybird on the rooftop next to the building he was on._

_Now, Dick had done his best to be loud enough for Little Wing to hear him and not too loud to invite potential threats lurking somewhere. Alas, his intentions went right down the drain because Jaybird didn't seem like he's heard him land on the same roof as he was busy talking to someone on a communicator._

_He really didn't mean to intrude, far from it and before he could speak up, he caught a word he wasn't sure what language it was and it really wasn't so much the word but the tone of Jaybird's voice when speaking it._

_Nothing like his usual sarcasm and bite, no, there was absolutely no trace of it and it took Dick by (pleasant) surprise._

 

_All that changed the next moment because Jay had noted someone being there._

“ _I'll call you back.” He says next, gone is the soft tone, replaced by his usual._

 

_There's a slight chilly breeze all of a sudden and Dick is growing more desperate by the minute._

 

“ _...if this is yer idea of spying on people, I got news for ya.” Jason suddenly speaks up, a smirk playing on his lips._

 

_Mask or not, the dread on Dick's face was unmistakable._

“ _No! No. That's not it, I swear.” Dick almost squeaks. “I just noticed you and wanted to say hi, that's all. I even tried to be loud so you can hear me- I didn't spy on you, Jay-”_

“ _Ay, I get it.” Jason puts a stop to this, lest Dick takes it a few octaves higher than he already is. “I heard ya the first time around.”_

“ _Anything going on on yer end?” He then asks, offering a new topic Dick all but leaps at._

“ _No, not really. Red Robin called in earlier and reported some minor troubles. Ended up being kids on a dare.”_

 

_Seriously, kids these days._

 

_Jason merely hummed at that. Then he turned to Dick._

“ _So about my conversation ya accidentally crashed in on-”_

“ _What conversation? I didn't hear a thing.” Dick shoots._

“ _Yeah, ya did.” Jason raises a brow._

“ _I really didn't.” Dick tires again, this time more serious. “I didn't understand what you were saying, so I can't repeat it to save my life.”_

 

Which ended up being true. Sadly.

 

Nonetheless, he promised Jay he'd keep it to himself and Jay believed it. Achievement unlocked.

 

His promise, however, didn't stop Dick from _trying_ to find out what the word was. Or words. (He was hopeless.)

 

Needless to say, he really did his best. First he attempted to repeat it to Google in his own safe house, away from prying, curious eyes and the famous Bat glare, but he really wasn't lying to Jay when he said he couldn't repeat it to save his life. After dawn had broken, he gave up on speaking to Google. Next, he tried to write it down. Also failed. He then attempted to search some popular video or song channels to see if he could find something there. Nope.

The word itself reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite get the origin right.

He can't ask Jay, what would be the point, he _won't be asking_ anyone in the Manor because obvious perils, _maybe B_ abs would be in the mood to keep a thing or two but he already promised Jay so that one was out of the question, too. No way she wouldn't connect the dots.

 

What to do? What to do? What could he try next?

 

A few days passed and he was this close to tear up but he refused to yield, damn it, how hard can finding a word be?

 

That morning he walked up the corridor to his own office with a new resolve to get to the bottom of the word(s) but stopped dead in his tracks and retraced his steps until he reached the info desk on that floor, eyes glued to the screen and ears sharp and satellite focus.

 

_The word._

_It had been spoken._

No doubt about it.

 

The intern sitting at the desk had greeted him on his way in, Henry, he believes, and now Henry was in danger of getting squished into the biggest embrace Dick could pull off but didn't for obvious reasons.

“Mr Grayson.” Henry says, looking up from the screen. “I'm sorry, I was told it was okay-”

“No, it's fine, really.” Dick says, bright smile on the ready, focusing like a hawk on the series the intern had been watching. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“Of course not, sir.”

“What is that?”

“It's a series, called The Outlander.”

“Okay. Thanks. Have a nice day and don't let people in until I say so.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Dick all but ran over to his office and momentarily reconnected his phone to a more secure Internet provider that had nothing to do with the wires and wireless in the building. Just to be extra sure.

He searched for the episode he had seen, nearly shoving the earphones straight to his own brain but there it was. Two seconds later. The word. Spoken again.

 

“ _mo ghràdh”_

 

Bless you, Henry.

 

After that little adventure, Dick decided it would be best to...lie low for a while. Which was a good decision. He managed to keep his mouth shut when reporting to Bruce, even if that added to Bruce's wild imagination of a dead-man wonderland soon to be upon Gotham, but he wouldn't betray the trust Jay had placed in him.

In the end, Bruce's worries were settled.

 

_...sort of._

 

It was funny to see the man come to certain conclusions and then flat out denying them, no matter how obvious they stared him in the face.

It was a major success when Bruce actually managed to pull off the word _acquittance_ over his tongue in his own house when Jay agreed to have dinner as to inquire how Jay was because he'd shiver up and die if he didn't at least try to get Jason to talk.

 

Once he stepped into that mine field, Jason wasn't about to let him walk out just so.

Ignore he may, overlook he might, pretend it doesn't exist worked for a while.

 

Until that fateful morning Bruce walked into his own living room and found _it_ on the small coffee table.

 _It_ being the manuscript of the one and only J. Austen, as in _the_ _manuscript_ , along with what seemed to be the very first edition of her work, Pride and Prejudice, in three volumes as it was originally published. No, scratch that, it didn't _seem_ to be, it _was._

 

Dick had been there to witness each second.

Bruce recognised something about those books, no doubt. Dick made a mental note to check them, but later. This situation had been too precious to waste.

The great clock ticked away, Bruce didn't move, maybe even ceased breathing but Dick refused to budge or even say a word.

 

“...they're friends.”

 

A pause.

Bruce can _feel_ Dick turn into the Cheshire cat behind him and now regrets ever entering this room. Even Austen was giving him a smug look from that one cover that had nothing to do with the things on the table but there she was.

 

“...good friends.”

 

He didn't sound desperate. He just didn't.

Dick's smile is now two Cheshire Cat's worth, at least.

 

“Sure.” He says, flipping a page of the newspaper.

 

“ _I send my besties the rarest literature treasures I come across and so happen to know they love all the time.”_

 

Nope. He's not falling for this.

“By the way, I think you got a message.” Dick adds as he gets up and hands Bruce his phone.

 

_Only after Dick left the room did he dare to peek at it, curiosity be damned, and he needed to sit down a bit._

_The sender was Tim and the picture had his second son and that half Kryptonian in it, but Jason's smile and look directed at Kon told him more than any of his surveillance systems ever could._

 

_His son was happy._

 

_With Kon, no less._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this little work of mine. :D
> 
> Wish you all a nice day/evening!
> 
> Words in Scottish Gaelic: https://www.omniglot.com/language/endearment/gaelic.htm


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